Ain't That A Kick In The Head?
by Onyx17
Summary: Awakening in a shuttle crewed by a band of rogue Autobot rebels was not exactly what the young Prime designated as welcoming. At least he has a team of fully loyal and unyielding soldiers to fall back on...right? TF:A, set after events of 'Transwarped'
1. Chapter 1

_Tranformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

Rodimus Prime was confused, though that was nothing short of an understatement. His whole frame felt heavy, numb and oddly tingly. But the Comic Rust was gone, that much he was sure of. So the question remained; who had cured it?

He had been out of stasis for a good joor with nothing to do but lie flat and silently brood. Though online, the sedation he was under kept him both immobile and system locked; this included both his motor and sensory functions.

During this period, the Prime had had much time to reflect. He had moved from thoughts of self-depreciation, to righteous anger at the Decepticons. At one point the target of his irrational resentment had even wavered over to the Elite Guard themselves, though this was short lived. The point was that Rodimus had pondered, contemplated, and mulled. He'd done this scrupulously. And his processor had long since run out of profound topics. In short, Rodimus Prime was bored. Extremely so.

Up until now the sedation had actually been a rather welcome release; giving him the time he needed to get his processor straight. But now he was ready to get moving...something he didn't think would be happening any time soon.

The Prime rubbed his forehead in frustration. And those irritating bleeps weren't making him feel any less-

Wait.

Rodimus froze. His arms were functional? He gave his servo a clench for good measure. The stinging sensation of energon lines redirecting their flow prickled his hand. But this was a welcome feeling compared to the frustrating numbness of before. The sound of metallic 'clinks' and an indiscernible, static lathed conversation brushed his audios. Did that mean...?

He cautiously onlined his optics...only to hastily offline them again. The blinding glare of an overhead light left his processor throbbing and low groan buzzed from his vocaliser as the sedation faded and pain slowly flared throughout his body.

"Oh! You're awake!" an unfamiliar voice sounded from somewhere to his right. Rodimus onlined a single blue optic, canting his head in the direction of the voice. He was greeted with a blue visor and white mask....which was a little too close for comfort.

"Umm...would you mind backing up a little?" he grunted, too pained to jerk away. Visor glinting in what must have been his equivalent of a blink, the mech hastily stepped back.

"Sorry! I was just finishing up adjusting your processor's sensory input" the bot, whom Rodimus assumed a medic, explained. "You can see and hear everything right?"

The Prime gave affirmative rumble, soothing his hands over his throbbing faceplates.

"Well that's a relief!" a new voice, from somewhere to his left, cut in. "The last thing we need is an offline Prime's corpse on our ship! Though things were looking pretty shaky with that Cosmic Rust a while back...Just a piece of good fortune that Aid had some of the famous Perceptor's Corrostop handy! But even then there was apparently some critical internal damage he had to fix. Poor guy almost burned himself out, not to mention you're teammates were seriously glitching over-"

Rodimus, who had only been half-listening to this new mech's incessant prattle sharply onlined both optics at the mention of his team. Hastily sitting up, despite his joints and plating's aching protests, he focussed on the bot.

"Oh you probably shouldn't be moving around too much so soon! I once knew this guy who knew this guy who knew this guy's cousin who-"

"Where are my team?" Rodimus cut the grey bot off, expression suddenly intense. The other's optics were bright.

"Those guys? Aid fixed them up cycles ago! They could really be anywhere on the shuttle; probably in the hangar or in the command centre. Though Red Alert is generally in here, I think she was here earlier actually! She probably went to go recharge or get energon, or something. Ironhide is most likely wherever Chromia is; I'm pretty sure he's got the hots for her seen as he's been constantly following her around like a lost turbo-puppy and- OW!" A sharp clang rang out and the grey bot nursed his helm as a familiar impressive red frame loomed over him.

"Don't you ever shut up?" Ironhide growled.

"Not while I'm online" was the mumbled response. "Though there have been times when- mmph!" the rest of his monologue was muffled as a slim servo clamped over his mouth.

"Come on Blue. I think the guy needs a little rest before he's ready to deal with your speeches" a young female voice giggled, gently pulling the grey mech out of the room. A cyan helm sporting a bright grin momentarily poked back around the doorframe.

"Glad to see you're online!" she called back in before disappearing once again. Ironhide gave a rough snort.

"Fragging younglings" he grunted, dumping himself onto a nearby chair. Rodimus fixed the mech with an exasperated stare.

"Care to explain where the frag we are?" he impatiently snapped. His processor throbbed, his body ached, and on top of that he, apparently, had been the most severely damaged out of his whole team. It would be a long mega-cycle before the Prime managed to restore his damaged pride.

Overlooking the sharp tone, Ironhide responded calmly, "Shortly after Team Charr pummelled our afts, they were getting ready to finish the job. Luckily Chromia's team happened to be passing over the sector; they basically fought off the 'cons long enough to get us into their shuttle" he absently rubbed the back of his helm, the beginnings of an impish grin stretching his faceplates, "Slag, you should'a seen her. Never saw a femme fight like that before"

Rodimus stared blankly at his comrade; he could practically see the pinkish haze fogging up Ironhide's optics. Lovesick dope.

"Ah, you're awake" an all too recognizable female voice sounded from the doorway. Red Alert briskly waltzed to his berth-side and instinctively performed a medical scan. "Fully recovered too, I see. Thank you First Aid" she turned from her commander towards the other medic whom Rodimus had awoken to.

"You don't have to thank me! It's my job to heal others" he hastily stated, gingerly shifting the wrench in his hands. The Prime hadn't noticed it before now, but the mech's voice was notably young; perhaps even younger than Hot Shot....speaking of which, where was he? And Brawn for that matter?

"Where are the other two?" he asked, awkwardly attempting to remove himself from the berth.

Red Alert promptly moved to his side and placed his arm over her shoulder, "Hot Shot can usually be found with either Bluestreak or Moonracer, though he likes to hover in the command deck as well. As for Brawn; the last I saw of him, he appeared to be in the beginnings of a fight with Blades..." she shrugged her Primeless-shoulder.

"Oh for the love of-! Please don't tell me it's over the same thing as before?" First Aid despairingly questioned, hand over mask.

"The very same" was the bored answer, "Don't let it bother you Aid, just let them tear each other apart...or wait until Chromia intervenes and does it herself" Ironhide gave giddy guffaw at this. Rodimus was unsurprised at the brusque medic's tenor, though an optic ridge rose in query.

"And what would Brawn be picking fights over _now_?" He knew the mech was a brawler (it was in the name after all) but the Prime would have thought him to have enough character to show at least a little more gratitude towards the bots that, apparently, had saved their lives.

"It's noth-"

"Brawn has a very vocal issue with First Aid's work ethics" Ironhide cut the young medic off, making a beeline for the med-bay exit, "Chromia wanted us to report to her as soon as you onlined" he explained, gesturing for him and Red Alert to follow.

Rodimus blandly thought 'whipped'

"Basically, he's a pacifist and has treated more than one 'con in his time as a medic" Red Alert continued, ignoring the younger medics feeble protests from behind them. "You can imagine Brawn's reaction I'm sure" Rodimus most assuredly could. Doubtless the naturally aggressive mech was downright revolted by such an outlook.

"And he's had a tendency to say one or two thoughtless things, if not in front of the kid himself, his brother. And Blades, also a rather violent mech, is less than impressed with Brawn's attitude" Ironhide drawled, tone greatly amused.

"And you can also imagine how _that_ works itself out. Either they tear into each other until one or both of them are in stasis-"

"Or until Chromia breaks them up" the red mech merrily added. Rodimus had the feeling that "breaks them up" meant more than merely stopping the fight.

The Prime gave a snort, "So when do I get to meet this Chromia anyway?"

"Right about now" a new voice cut in and the Prime only avoided colliding with the suddenly immobile back of Ironhide due to Red Alerts firm grip on him.

He furrowed his optic ridges in confusion, helm straining to see beyond the wide, red form. His own soft blue optics locked with sharp icy ones. They belonged to an equally blue, solid femme form. Two other frames (one Rodimus instantly acknowledged as Brawn, the other most likely being Blades) swayed unsteadily at her sides, both with a firm, blue-handed grip on their neck plates. The Prime for the life of him couldn't remember the last time, if ever, he'd seen his teammate so subdued.

"Rodimus I'm guessing" Chromia's voice cut into his musings. The Prime blinked once and opened his mouth to answer. However, clearly not interested in his conventional response, the blue femme briskly crossed the hallway, all but dragging the stumbling mechs along with her.

"Could I borrow a moment of your time Aid?" the gentle, fond way she spoke to the medic gave the Prime an instant indication of just how 'tolerant' she would have been towards Brawn's manner.

A weak sigh sounded from behind him, "No problem, I'll have them both patched up in a joor"

"Tch, don't waste your resources; Primus knows the morons will have slagged each other up by the next cycle anyway! You're better off keeping one or both of them under until we reach Cybertron...Though I'd say both; wouldn't put if past one of them to try to assault the other in recharge" the femme drawled, roughly shoving the frames into the waiting arms of Ironhide.

"Come on you two processor-less bulkheads" he snarled, dragging them back in the direction of the med-bay, First Aid unenthusiastically following. Various growled remarks about them wasting Chromia's time reached Rodimus' audios. Wow....whipped indeed.

"So..." Chromia's voice reclaimed his attention, "Let's talk"

Rodimus couldn't be certain, but the way she spoke to him, not a hint of affability or camaraderie in her tone, sent warnings off in the Prime's observant processor.

It was at this point that he finally saw the femme up-close, standing less than an inch over her yet still feeling tiny under her intense blue gaze. But that was not what had caused his frame to go completely rigid, fuel pumps twisting under the sharp sting of shock and optics widening beyond their natural size.

The Autobot insignia displayed across her chestplate had two very clear, very deliberate slashes across it...The kind of slashes unique to but one type of bot, Autobot and Decepticon alike...

"...deserter"

Suddenly the Prime longed for his previous, immensely preferable, deeply sedated state. It would sure as Pit beat what was to come in _this_ confrontation.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Gah! I just had to finish this chapter =.= the flipping thing has been rotting away on my laptop for the last few months (t'was getting annoying) I'm not even sure I'm gonna finish it...but wha'evah! Anyways, this is just a persistent little plot bunny that got wedged between my brain crevices and kept gnawing until I finished writing it...pretty picture eh? ;D

Basically spawned from my mutual love of filling plot holes and brining in TF:A neglected characters =3 And let me just say this: Ironhide is ADOREABLE when besotted X'D Such a goggle-eyed little sweet-heart TTwTT Roddy's gonna be face-palming a LOT in the future 8D


	2. Chapter 2

_Transformers © Hasbro_

* * *

Chromia, Rodimus had soon realised, was _not_ the most conversational of fembots. Granted the Prime was well accustomed to such brusqueness from Red Alert, but _this_ femme's tenor was something else entirely; while Red did speak with a direct and curt tone, Chromia had an almost hostile edge behind every scarce word she spoke. Being in her presence was like driving with metal-covered tires over a mine-field.

"In here" her gruff tenor sounded from ahead of him. He gently shrugged off Red Alert's arm, answering her disapproving frown with a firm look, and laboriously trudged after the blue femme. They entered through a widely stretched hatch and into a generously spaced hangar; Red Alert ambling slowly behind him.

"So, what'll it be?" Chromia asked, absently clanking her elbow against a white, rust-speckled wall. The next nanosecond, an overhead light spat into existence; it's glow dim and randomly flickering. Rodimus silently pondered why they had such a gargantuan hangar when it contained no more than a few boxed piles of spare parts, stacks of energon cubes and crotchety looking weaponry.

He raised an optic ridge, "Excuse me?"

Blue, battle marred arms crossed and she sent a lacklustre glower from her spot across the hangar, idly leaning against the wall, "_You're_ Elite Guard. _We're_ deserters. We're taking you back to Cybertron, _to_ the Elite Guard HQ" she puffed out a guttural sigh from the side of her mouth, "What will it cost us in order to keep your traps shut about us?"

The Prime was rather stumped at the femme's profoundly blunt manner, though thankfully Red Alert was less ruffled.

"You assume we'd instantly report you as soon as we got back?" she queried. Chromia snorted.

"No. I _know_ we'd be arrested. Maybe not by you five personally, but by your comrades" her optics burned a little brighter and she continued, "Trust me, I know the picture of us that's painted by the Elite Guard. We're cold-sparked traitors without a semblance of honour. We'd shoot one of our own in the back for a scrap of energon or the most meagre of upgrades"

Red Alert crossed her arms, mirroring the others femme's stance but with less languor, "Surely you could hold our safe return against us. Or simply refuse to take us all the way back" Chromia sighed, this time with an exasperated veneer.

"Were it up to me, I'd have left you all to your own devices back with those Decepticons" she vented bitterly.

"And why _didn't_ you?" Rodimus bit out, optics dimming as he slumped to sit on a nearby crate. Chromia shrugged.

"Consider yourselves lucky that First Aid's such a stubbornly compassionate medic" she droned, not without fondness, "Not to mention Moonracer and Bluestreak aren't prone to stand by and do nothing. Then there's Blades who, in all honesty, would _never_ miss out on a chance to beat the living slag out of a 'Con" she chuckled dryly.

Rodimus frowned, "So what do you think _we_ are? Mindless drones that just take in every last word the Elite Guard tosses our way" he narrowed his optics.

"Pretty much" she canted her head to the side with a rather bored expression, "I have yet to meet an Elite Guard who proves me wrong, but you're welcome to try" she added with a pleasant smile.

Before the Prime could snipe something back, a new form quite _literally_ whizzed into the hangar, tall black tire jumping the hatch.

"Chromia!" a young fembot chirped, wheeling up next to the still languidly positioned femme, "We've got an incoming communiqué from Blaster. He says it's urgent"

With a concise nod Chromia pushed away from the wall, crossing the expanse of the room without so much as a glance towards the Elite Guards.

Pausing at the hatch, she tossed behind her, "Moonracer, could you set this guy up with some energon?"

"Sure thing boss!" she saluted with a sharp clang of a cyan hand meeting faceplate.

"And Skyfire?"

"Yes"

Rodimus gave an involuntary jump, optics instinctively sweeping each breadth of the hangar. He blinked in confusion.

_No audio transmitters? How can.… So, where did that-?_

"Make sure our reception's at maximum clarity" Chromia's voice resonated from outside the hatch, "I'm sure Blaster'll love to hear about this one" she drawled with a dry chuckle.

Rodimus was jerked into awareness by a light prod to his upper-arm.

"Here, you'll need this" he looked down to see a generous helping of energon offered to him by chipped cyan servos. He accepted it with mumbled thanks, hastily tossing back its contents with all the vigour of a mech who hadn't properly energised in Primus knew how long.

"Here Red" the wheeled femme spun to offer a similar cube to the medic.

"Thank you Moonracer" she said with a slight smile. The femme grinned brightly before spinning on her wheel and out of the hangar.

Rodimus sighed as the low-grade warmed his systems, serving the dual purpose of revitalising his energy, but also bringing him into more stark awareness of his fairly precarious situation. A melodramatic engine whine sounded from the Prime and he slumped further onto the crate.

"Come on Rodimus. It's not that bad" Red Alert chuckled at her commander's display, "No need to exaggerate the theatrics"

"Theatrics?! Red, we're on a ship crewed by deserters! _Deserters_. For all we know they could be lying through their dermals and we're on our way to being melted down for spare parts…or sold to some psycho Decepticon scientists as lab-experiments….or-"

"_Right_, because I for one found that First Aid to be quite the shifty character. Sure, he hid it well under a meek exterior but you can tell he's just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment before BAM" a slap of metal on metal, "he adjusts your headlights!" A snort of laughter followed this. Rodimus glared out of the corner of his optics at the room's newest occupant.

"Too true, Hot Shot" Red Alert smirked, "But personally, I found Moonracer to be the more devious. I'm certain those large, blue optics of hers must shoot some form of tickle-ray" The Prime twitched.

_Oh brother. Now _Red's_ joining in on the sarcastic banter? Primus, why me?!_

"Will you both shut it?!" he snapped, jerking up into a straighter sitting position. "I swear, the way you guys are acting, I'd almost think you were enjoying yourselves!"

The two looked distinctly unperturbed by his temper.

"Sheesh Roddy" the young pyrotechnician gave a crooked grin, "What crawled up your tailpipe?" Glaring at the gibe and nickname, the Prime angrily threw back the rest of his cube's contents.

"Rodimus" Red Alert idly swirled the contents of her own cube, smiling. "In all seriousness, they _are_ a good-sparked group. Blades may be impetuously aggressive and Chromia has a rather barbed tenor, but they aren't bad 'bots"

"Very true"

Hot Shot yelped as the new resonantly humming voice joined their conversation. Rodimus growled in frustration, slapping his empty cube onto the crate.

"Ok, who's the eavesdropper?" he groused to his teammates.

Hot Spot feverishly turned his head from one end of the hangar to the other while Red Alert hummed thoughtfully.

"That's a new feature to us" she stated, "Skyfire, right?" she addressed to the room.

"That's correct. I apologise for listening in, but it's rather difficult to block out conversations within this particular area"

Hot Spot, who in curiosity had run off to inspect each nook of the hangar, chuckled slightly nervously. "What are you, some kind of security system?"

The voice gave a light laugh, "Among other things"

Rodimus was really growing tired of those ambiguous responses, "Namely?" he pressed, only to be shot a reprimanding look by Red. He crossed his arms and shrugged a 'what did I do?' The medic sighed.

"Forgive our rather tactless commander" she smiled pleasantly while the Prime scowled, "He doesn't mean to grill you, but out of ardent interest, could you be an A.I. programme?" she asked with a note of interest.

The voice hummed lightly, seeming to consider his answer. Meanwhile Hot Shot sprinted back up to his teammates, a look of bemusement marring his features.

"There's absolutely no one else here. Not to mention no audio emitters or computer consoles. Nothing!" he warily gazed about the room. Red Alert frowned in confusion. No consoles? What on-

All further questions were broken off as a sudden violent jerk sent the room's occupants lurching. Rodimus cursed as he was knocked from the crate, landing faceplates first into the floor; Red Alert and Hot Spot following shortly after. Still sore from his time offline, the Prime arduously raised his torso on shaking arms.

"What was-"

The question ended in another pained curse when the ship jolted harshly to the side. The sudden change in gravity sent the hanger's residents flying through the hatch and into a heap in the hallway.

"Apologies" Skyfire's voice sounded remarkably less ominous within the more confined walls of the corridor, though still took the three shaken 'bots by surprise.

"Skyfire, what the slag was that?" Hot Shot got out, scrambling to remove his weight from the wincing Prime's legs.

"I'm afraid we've engaged a minor meteor storm" he responded with some notable strain in his voice. Odd. Why should a computer system feel any sort of-

A pained hiss, which definitely wasn't either of her teammates', caught Red Alert's attention…._precisely_ when another vicious jerk shook the walls of the ship. She frowned. Skyfire was reacting to the shuttle being hit. Why? He shouldn't be able to feel _anything_ as a computer programme. The only way he could feel anything would be if he were….sentient.

_Primus, that's it!_

"Rodimus, Hot Shot!" she called out, attempting to steady herself against the ship's wall. Both sets of optics flickered towards her enquiringly. "He's not a computer programme. This is his alt-mode!"

The Prime frowned, "Red, what are you saying? That can't be right! If that was true that would mean he's -"

"Fully sentient. Cybertronian!" the medic cut in, clutching at a small incline of the wall for support against the blows still pummelling the shuttle. Hot Shot gaped while Rodimus continued to look sceptical.

"But…Red, if he were an actual Cybertronian _and_ he transformed into a shuttle big enough to carry all of us…he'd be huge!" he exclaimed, though inwardly felt his scepticism beginning to wilt; if not from the femmes completely serious gaze, then from the consistent sounds of discomfort being uttered from apparently nowhere. The Prime sighed.

"I hate it when you're right"

- - - - - - -

Chromia firmly gripped each handle affixed to the forefront of the communication console, optics narrowly glued to the fuzzy red and white mess displayed across the monitor. The audio was just as bad, if not worse. Blaster's voice buzzed in and out of focus, between barely discernable and pure static.

"Bzzzzzz…mia….Bzzzzzzz….ion compromised req….Bzzzzzzzzzz….nection….Bizzzzzz…..two joorzzzzzzzzz…" With a final crackle and pop the communiqué went dead. The femme sighed.

"What was that I said about getting a clear reception?" she murmured, more to herself than the shuttle. Well, she'd just have to get the message in coded format then. Not so much of a problem as their current predicament.

"Apologies Chromia" Skyfire's voice was slightly pained and lathed in static, "The storm came out of nowher-"

"Relax Skyfire" the femme smiled slightly, "Not your fault" She scanned the oncoming rocks and noted their decreasing numbers and density. "Looks like it's almost over anyway. We'll land in a few kliks and Aid can fix you up"

"Thank you" he sighed, clearly depleted. Chromia sighed again. She honestly didn't know who was worse, First Aid or Skyfire; both were idiots who completely burned themselves out, not uttering so much as a peep until they eventually offlined.

She was jerked back into attentiveness as her internal messaging system bleeped into life. She quickly accessed and scanned the encryptions. Hmm, simple enough; just basic binary. It took her less than a klik before she'd determined the message.

"Ok, Skyfire?"

"Yes" he tiredly got out.

"Think you could make it for another few kliks? I just got a message from Blaster and the rest. Their previous location was compromised so they relocated to a planet nearby here"

"How….near?"

"Less than a hundred miles"

A shaky sigh sounded. Chromia dimmed her optics in worry, "We can land now if y-"

"I will make it"

She frowned, "Are y-"

"Yes already! Now just let me fly!" he barked.

The side of her lips quirked up into a grin, optics brightening once again.

"Aww, that's my big, tough nerd" she crooned teasingly but yelped when another harsh jerk sent her stumbling back onto her aft.

"Oops" he droned.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I kind of intrigued myself with this story…I'm interested to see how it will end too 8D Figured that I may as well add a chap. Ah gots inspiration ah did XD

I honestly meant for Chromia's crew to get more face-time in this one…Damn Rodimus and co. hogging all the attention! And on another note, I based TF:A Moonracer's wheel thing off the motorbikes in ROTF :D I thought their one-wheeled design was pretty cool!

Don't piss Skyfire off when he's injured/tired/currently in a position wherein he could eject you into deep space. Just….don't D:


End file.
